Let's Call It A Night
by TARRANT HiTOPP
Summary: The five times Rumpelstiltskin fell asleep in places where one should definitely not fall asleep, and the one time Mr. Gold did the same. Includes Milah, Bae, Hatter, Belle, and more.
1. Counting Sheep

**Obviously I don't own any of the characters, and they all belong to the amazing writers of ONCE. Enjoy.**

Chapter 1 - Counting Sheep

Milah didn't hate her husband, but she didn't love him. She pitied him more than anything, and the way he would share his small smiles and squeeze her hand in public when he wanted to tell her he loved her, but wanted her full attention first. He was a puppy of a man who was perfectly content to let her tell him what she wanted him to do and to do it without question. He was resilient, never letting anyone's harsh gazes or whispers get to him, although they always irked her to no end. He would tell her that it was fine and to never mind them, but she couldn't and she only got more angry when he tried to sooth her. And he was patient, always taking time to calm her down or to talk things through. It was terribly difficult to stay mad at him for long.

One trait she truly admired about him however was his determination. He could work and spin for hours on end, even going days without sleep to reach a quota of skeins to sell at market. He would eat while he worked, nearly pricking himself on the spindle to keep himself awake, and fight through any illness, injury, or distractions to put food on their table. She was thankful for that. He was not the man of her dreams by far, but he could provide, and that made him worth her trouble.

Sometimes while he would spin she would help keep him awake by sitting across from him and make him tell her stories. He understood why she would suddenly be so interested in his fabricated tall tales his "aunts" used to tell him as a boy, but he never spoke of it. Instead he would rhythmically spin yarn and spin tales. He told her of fantastical journeys he had never been on, but could tell of them like he'd been there. Stories of monsters and heroes and sights unlike any others. She did love him in those moments, the way his dark eyes would light up with wonder and his expressive face would smile and frown against his own accord. He would do voices, which was unnecessary, but not unappreciated. Milah would think about what a good father he would make in those moments, but for some reason a child never came.

She would grow tired long before him however, and sometimes she would go to bed, kissing him goodnight and wishing him luck with his spinning. He would come to bed only when his quota was reached, which sometimes didn't come until sunrise the next day.

This was one of those nights. She had long gone to bed when she was roused from a most peaceful slumber by her husbands lips kissing her forehead.

"I'm going to get some water from the well." he whispered to her, and then he was gone. She smiled and curled deeper into the skins and blankets that made their bed covers. They didn't have much, but Rumpelstiltskin always made sure she never went without the necessities. She listened for his return, but after waiting much longer than she expected to, she realized she couldn't hear anything that signified his safe return to their modest home. She forced herself out of bed and saw a very full basket of straw sitting beside the recently abandoned spinning wheel that took up a large space amongst their limited belongings.

She searched for him all around their house, then went to the well herself, but he was nowhere there either. Beginning to worry, she returned to their house and saw a bucket of water sitting by their door that she hadn't noticed. She stared at it, confused, then peeked back inside and called to him. There was no reply. She was worried now, very worried. He had obviously returned with the bucket of water, but now he was missing. She searched the property again, deciding to check their flock of sheep. If they'd been given hay, then he was probably just gone to the bakers or somewhere to get food and had forgotten to tell her. If they had not been fed- she could very well be a widow for all she knew.

Upon arriving at the crude gate that kept their sheep safe and close at night, she could see that there was a large congregation near the middle of the pen, where all the sheep had gathered, blocking her view of what they were crowded around. She climbed the gate rather ungracefully and cautiously made her way over to see what had attracted the sheep and caused them to clump together so oddly. Usually even when Rumpelstiltskin fed them, several of the older sheep ignored him and continued grazing as if he didn't even exist, but now every single animal was clustered together.

When she spotted the motionless boot, she came close to screams or maybe tears. Fear raced through her heart and set it thumping wildly. She crept closer, fearful of what she would see next. The boot revealed a leg, then another leg, and in the center of the cluster of sheep, the rest of her husbands body.

Sheep were crowded around him, several laying down, others standing and grazing on the hay he had brought in for them. His head was resting on the back of their oldest brown sheep, which laid calmly, looking strait ahead with its feet folded underneath it, looking like a loaf of bread. Tucked between his chest and his arm was the only lamb spring had given them, now covered in thick white wool. Laying over his other arm was their black sheep Rumpelstiltskin had bottle fed as a lamb, having been the runt and rejected by the rest of flock. The dark woolen sheep loved Milah's husband like he was it's father, but the jealous thing hated her, and usually tried to chase her away if she came to talk to Rumple while he was tending them in the field.

He was asleep. Fast asleep as he cuddled with his livestock, having passed out there while feeding the filthy creatures. She was angry that he had caused her such worry, and she scowled at him scoffing and kicking his foot harshly.

"Wake up you idiot you look ridiculous!" She scolded, leaning over him as he startled awake, spooking a few sheep and causing the black one to squint at her irritatedly. He blinked at her, then looked around, confused at where he had found himself.

"What-?" He paused, looking up at her like she could explain to him what had happened.

"What the hell am I doing out here?"

"You fell asleep with your animals silly." She scolded him playfully, taking his hand and helping him stand up.

"I'm sorry Milah, I'm just- so exhausted." He yawned.

"It's fine. I'll take the wool into market later today. You come inside and get some rest. I'd hate for my husband to fall asleep somewhere worse than the sheep pen." She chuckled. He smiled at her and leaned over to kiss her cheek lovingly.

"Thank you Milah. It won't happen again." He thanked, leaning his head down to her shoulder and entwining her fingers between his. Milah smiled too and helped him inside. No, she didn't hate her husband, but she didn't love him either.

**God I hated Milah, but It's kinda fun to write her. Anyway, let me know what you think and I'll be getting the next chapter up soon. By the way I don't have a Beta so I apologize for any mistakes I missed. Please review because I love to hear from you and I haven't written anything in forever so I need to know if I'm not too rusty. Thanks again! **


	2. Hitting the Hay

**Here we go again. I actually got this up sooner than I expected myself to. **

Chapter 2 - Hitting the Hay

Baelfire hated to see his papa working so hard all day long. On some days, if his leg was hurting him, he would sit at the wheel and spin for hours, trying to make enough money to sustain them. Baelfire tried to help, but his father seemed adamant about allowing him to have a carefree childhood.

"You don't have to work Bae. You're only ten. Go play with your friends." He would urge after sitting on the hard wooden stool for days, spinning and weaving wool so that they could earn just enough money for food each week. Baelfire was just as stubborn as his father however, and so it took more work than that to keep him from helping around the house, stoking the fire or feeding their small heard of sheep. His father's sad, weary eyes would brighten a little when Bae told him something had been done, but it was fleeting and he would quickly resume his work as soon as he thanked him for his help.

Although his father's workload was extensive as could be, somehow he always found the chance to spend time with his boy. They would sometimes play spook the sheep or toss Bae's leather ball back and forth. Rumpelstiltskin had refused to let his son have a pigs bladder as a toy like other children, so he had saved up for weeks to buy the materials to make his son a proper leather ball. Bae was happy that he had such an amazing parent. Even though most other children had two, Bae would trade twenty parents just to keep his one.

The cold winter months weren't terrible in the Frontlands, but the nights could get quite cold with their thin walls and lack of a proper floor, but they had a strong fire and plenty of sheepskin blankets and expertly patched clothes. The two males would huddle together near the fire while Rumpelstiltskin spun and Baelfire told him made-up stories.

"You would make an excellent Bard someday Bae." Rumpelstiltskin would praise, telling him of how he could travel the world and tell stories for money. The idea was glamorous, but Bae was smart, and he knew he would barely scrape by if he pursued such a foolish dream. But Baelfire didn't voice the impracticality of it all, only laughed and agreed, enjoying his father's praise and being able to just sit and pretend they had not a care in the world.

But then he would be sent to bed, and from just across the room his father would continue to spin late into the night while Baelfire laid there and pretended to sleep as he listened to the deep humming, the rhythmic turning of the squeaky wheel, and the occasional deep sigh or yawn which all combined was like the music of his father.

When Baelfire finally awoke early the next morning he would see that his father was still at work, his eyes barely able to stay open as he forced himself to continue on. Bae would pretend he didn't see his father's obvious exhaustion and ignored how he would trudge and limp through the rest of his day without even a single wink of sleep.

This was one of those terribly awkward mornings that always made Baelfire's chest ache with pity for his father. It was cold that morning, so cold that Rumpelstiltskin had gotten up from his wheel and added the blanket he had draped over his own shoulders that evening to the modest number of coverings that were wrapped tightly around his son, forgoing his own warmth to keep his son comfortable and safe from the biting wind that caused their walls to creak and shift.

When Baelfire woke up, his father's hands were still moving in the same motions as they had been when he'd fallen asleep, but the man's eyes were closed and he was leaning far forward on his stool. The process was slow, but he was still producing thread even as he dozed.

"Papa." Baelfire called softly, sitting up on the small straw mattress. Rumpelstiltskin jostled awake immediately, blinking rapidly and inhaling sharply, nearly crying out as he searched his surroundings frantically to get his wits about him. He looked like he expected there to be a lurking danger waiting to pounce. He turned to his son and stared at him, then realized what had happened.

"Oh. I'm sorry Bae. I must have fallen asleep." Then he looked at the thread in his hands and smiled.

"See Bae, I can spin in my sleep I'm so practiced." He joked, but Baelfire didn't think it was funny at all.

"You need to rest Papa you've been working all night." Baelfire scolded, but he only brushed his son's advise off and stood, stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He winced with the slightest amount of pressure on his right leg. He hid the pain quickly and pushed through it, walking over to the fire and stoking it with well practiced motions.

"I'm fine Son, don't you worry about me. Why don't you go off and visit Moraine for the day while I go feed the sheep eh?" He urged, patting his son's shoulders and limping from their hovel with his staff, heading off to do the daily chores.

"Are you sure you don't want my help Papa?" Baelfire called as he climbed from the bed and followed his father out the door.

"Of course I'm sure. You go have fun Bae." His father shooed him away, heading toward the crude fence that kept their sheep close. They all rushed towards him like eager children wanting to greet him, all bleating and pushing their heads into his hand as he pet each one to calm them. Baelfire decided not to argue with his father, and instead went for a walk. He liked walking through the fields and forests near their tiny village. Walking calmed him and gave him time to think, but walking gave him time to worry about his poor father with his bad leg and their drafty home that they struggled to keep stocked with food even in the summer.

He walked all around the village just along the tree line, weaving in and out of the woods, as silent as a deer. He listened to the sounds of the town slowly awakening, voices slowly gathering into the normal bustle of peasant life. He was jealous and angry at them. What gave them the right to cheerily go about their morning after a long nights rest when his weary father didn't even get to lay down for a night, only to be treated worse than any of them.

Baelfire always pretended not to hear the whispers or notice the stares people gave his father. They called him a coward and a deserter. A disgrace. Baelfire didn't understand why they called him names or sneered at him or paid him half as much for twice the quality thread, but his father pretended his discrimination was nonexistent, so knowing nothing more, he played along.

When Baelfire finally made his way back to the house he was planning on telling his father all about spending time with Moraine, the girl he knew (although his father never actually said so) he was arranged to marry someday. However, when he arrived back at their home, his father was nowhere to be found. Baelfire searched everywhere for the man, not having any idea how he could have just disappeared, unless something horrible had happened.

The boy's mind swam with terrifying scenarios that could have taken place. Perhaps soldiers had come and taken him away to war like they sometimes did to people, or maybe he had just up and left his son like his father had done to him. Maybe he was kidnapped by pirates like his mother and killed. Or he could have been taken by anyone with similar intentions.

Baelfire forced himself to think clearly. His father loved him, and he would never leave him without a fight, and he may not have been the most respected man but there was no one Bae knew of that would want to kill his father. Perhaps he had gone to fetch something at the market, or maybe he was visiting a neighbor. Bae assured himself that his father was alive and well and perfectly fine, but the sick feeling in his stomach still lingered.

Then he heard his father's voice.

"Gah! Get em bur ah mmm." His father's voice mumbled from somewhere he couldn't place. Baelfire listened and searched. He was somewhere nearby, but nowhere to be seen. Baelfire looked all around, but he still could not find where his father was.

"Papa?" He called quietly.

"Bae? Go hurm nd it ah hmm." The mumbling came again, dying out at the end like he'd forgotten what he was saying, and realization clicked inside Baelfire's mind. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he realized wherever his father was, he was talking in his sleep. He only did so when he had dreams about the war, but Baelfire was used to hearing his father either jolt awake in the middle of the night in fear or mumble incoherently until woken up.

"Papa!" Baelfire called, loud enough to wake his light-sleeper of a father. To the boy's right came a rustling and the hay pile shifted and moved as a man with straw all through his long hair and burlap-like clothing emerged, looking confused and flustered. He looked at Bae for a long moment before he understood what had happened, and started laughing. His laugh wasn't its normal, rich laugh he had when Baelfire told a good joke though. It was higher, and nervous sounding, bordering on hysterical. He was trying to talk through the laughter, but all Baelfire could make out was;

"Not the first time."

"Come on Papa. You're exhausted. You need to rest. No arguing." Baelfire scolded. Rumpelstiltskin sighed and sobered smiling at his son and tousling his hair cheerfully even though his eyes looked dull and sick like the sheep they had lost just that fall. The dullness sent Baelfire's blood cold and he wrapped his father's arm over his shoulder and helped him inside. The staff he always carried was nowhere to be found.

"My brave boy's becoming a man. I'm so lucky to have such a wonderful son." Rumpelstiltskin praised groggily, making Baelfire's heart warm even though he was still full of worry.

"I'm the lucky one Papa." Baelfire argued, making the older man hug him close and sniffle, even though he was not crying. He sent his father to rest more often after that, after all, Baelfire hated to see his papa working so hard all day long.

**Aww. Poor Rumple working so hard to feed his son. I really love Baelfire too and personally, I miss him a lot on the show. I still don't have a Beta so hopefully Spell Check did a good job with this one. **

**Thank you **Ryunn Kazan ** and **VyeLoyomBrightwarrior** for your amazing reviews and also thank you to all of you for reading and favoriteing or following. I was so happy that it already has people watching for more. I'm so happy! **

**Anyway, let me know what you think and I'll be getting the next chapter as soon as I can. Please review because I really love to hear from you! Thanks again! **


	3. Cat Napping

**I'm very sorry it took so long everyone, I've just been holding onto this chapter for a little while because I wasn't sure if I liked it or not, but it's been too long and I need to move on to the next part, so here you go. **

Chapter 3 - Cat Napping

Jefferson wasn't really sure what Rumplestiltskin was to him. He was fairly sure he was not a friend, but they were more friendly with each other than typical business partners. There were not boss and worker, because Jefferson didn't feel that he was indebted to the imp in any way. Quite the opposite actually, even though Rumplestiltskin was permanently on the upper hand. They weren't even drinking partners, due to the extremely surprising fact that Rumplestiltskin claimed that he did not drink for pleasure.

They were- benefactors perhaps. Jefferson acquired things that Rumplestiltskin requested, and Rumplestiltskin assured that Jefferson was well funded for his efforts and his more casual pursuits. They were not friends though. Surely they couldn't have been. They had nothing in common, and enjoyed none of the same things.

On a few rare occasions Jefferson had tried to convince his scaly, uptight benefactor to unwind with a little wine and some women, but he'd only sipped his wine casually throughout the night and studiously avoided all women Jefferson nudged his way. He tapped his feet to the music but kept to the shadows of pubs, hidden and out of sight to anyone not paying particular attention. He watched bar patrons and brooded, allowing Jefferson to enjoy himself, then helping him home and waiting with him to heal his hangover the next morning.

One even fewer occasions, Rumplestiltskin had tentatively and probably unknowingly engaged Jefferson in his own hobbies. He showed him his books of charms and curses, letting him loan one so that he could put a small curse on his piggish neighbor. Rumplestiltskin had beamed and pressed for details when Jefferson returned the book and reported that the curse was successful. He had also told a few stories of his own travels to other places and realms, eventually convincing Jefferson to expand his hat with more portals.

They taught each other as well. Jefferson taught Rumplestiltskin how to engage other people from other lands more appropriately than he had been, and he taught Jefferson some light self defense with a sword in his castle gardens. They would sometimes spend whole days together talking and exchanging theories of magic and mayhem, but Jefferson just couldn't see them as friends.

For one thing, Rumplestiltskin was likely the most wicked, cruel, vile, and hideous beast to ever exist. He was cunning and evil and manipulative and cross with the world. Jefferson was more light-hearted and whimsical, keeping himself without burdens or commitments. He was as free as the wind, but Rumplestiltskin came with more baggage than anyone could have possibly ever known.

And also, just as much as Jefferson tried to push the imps buttons by stretching his demands, Rumplestiltskin was never fazed by his attempts at prodding. He was patient with him, but he was far from with anyone else. He treated Jefferson like an exception, which boiled the hatter's blood like he couldn't believe. And the twisted little imp took joy in testing him, pulling at strings and pushing him around, sending him on near impossible quests to retrieve the most obscure of objects from tiny dragon's eggs to glowing golden rings.

And oh how they bantered. The two men treated their verbal battles like a sport, meticulously picking fun at and making up teasing nicknames for each other. They were_ certainly_ not friends.

But one bright and beautiful afternoon Jefferson trudged up the dank and stiflingly dark stairs to the Dark One's workroom-laboratory in the far tower in the west wing of his large mountain castle, and he found something he was definitely not expecting to find. He entered the room and announced his presence boldly, but there was no response. The room was dead silent, creating an atmosphere of abandonment like no one had stepped foot in the place in decades.

"Stiltskin?" The hatter called out, scanning the room. The place was in its normal state of chaotic order, the tables were strewn with ingredients of all kinds, poisons and elixirs, as well as parchment and ink and quills and notes and ledgers. He had whole bookcases full of his notebooks that he kept, his own observations and studies that he preformed on magical reactions and processes. There were a few cups of tea and plates or bowls of meals he had taken while working that sat abandoned at various spots around the room. He hadn't taken time to clean, meaning he hadn't left the room in days.

"The door at the bottom of the tower was unlocked and you weren't anywhere else in the castle so I know you're here." Jefferson stated to the empty room, waiting for the imp to suddenly appear, camouflaged in a corner or something, seated on the window ledge or perched somewhere absurd reading an old entry in one of his books. But he was nowhere.

"If you're going to try to spook me this is a poor way to go about it. Very lazy and unprofessional I'd say." Jefferson scolded the empty space. There was still no response, and something inside him actually began to worry. What if he had simply vanished, and he was never seen again? Surely people would rejoice for weeks at his absence, but Jefferson would be left with nothing. He hadn't realized how far he'd come since his chance meeting with the scaly creature, and nor had he ever desired going back to his life of crime and poverty. No. He wasn't thinking rationally. The Dark One wouldn't simply disappear.

"Look, I got you that- Ortheo-whachama-call-it fossil thing you _had_ to have, If you don't come out I'm going to throw it out the window and steal all your gold. I do know where you keep it you know." He threatened, fishing the long black and white spear-like fossil from his satchel and marching toward the window.

"I mean it, I'll toss it right out this-" He was interrupted by an unexpected snag as his foot collided with something that didn't give and he quickly started rocketing toward the ground. He held out his hands and braced for impact, but he fell onto something soft, and that soft thing instantly started to move and make sounds.

"What? What's- going on here? Who- who's there?!" Rumplestiltskin's agitated voice snapped groggily as Jefferson realized he had fallen on top of the sorcerer. He pushed himself up off of the smaller man and sat next to him as the magician blinked and sat up as well. He had been lying down on the floor. In one of his hands was a book on magical runes, and in the other was an empty vial that had been corked tightly. He stared at Jefferson with confusion and they both tried to make since of what had happened.

"Hatter? What are you doing here? I didn't expect you back from Siluria until Tuesday." He questioned, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor and scratching his tousled and unruly hair. Overall he looked truly comical, and Jefferson was astounded at what he had quite literally stumbled upon.

"It is Tuesday." Jefferson smirked, fully recovered from the fall and now trying very hard not to laugh as he kneeled in front of a very perplexed and freshly woken Rumplestiltskin.

"Impossible." The imp scowled, looking around the room like it had changed. Jefferson allowed himself to chuckle, then placed a hand on the sorcerer's shoulder to get his full attention.

"Stiltskin, I think you fell asleep on the floor." He broke the news lightly, expecting Rumplestiltskin to deny the whole thing and to stand and storm away to pout, but he didn't. He raised his eyebrows and stared at Jefferson in shock. He looked down at himself, then at the floor where he had been laying.

"Oh-." He murmured, swallowing and then trying to get his feet underneath him, but failing. Jefferson stood and helped him up, hoisting him up with a brotherly assistance.

"Thank you Hatter for- finding me. I should um- probably get back to work um-" He frantically scanned the room, trying to make since of his surroundings and looking thoroughly embarrassed. There were tears in his eyes.

"Hey are you-, Are you okay Stiltskin?" Jefferson questioned, craning his neck to look at Rumplestiltskin's face. He continued to avoid eye contact, but nodded sheepishly.

"I'm fine it's just- not the first time." He sputtered uselessly. Jefferson scowled.

"Come on. You need to go to bed and get some real sleep." Rumplestiltskin shook his head and walked away from the haberdasher, waving his hands and denying everything determinedly.

"No no, I'm fine I just need to- get back to work." He tried to convince, but it was feeble and uncertain, so Jefferson persisted.

"You need to sleep." Jefferson stressed, following the imp as he tried to retreat from table to table.

"I'm the Dark One. I am the most powerful being in the seven realms, I don't need you to tell me wether or not I need sleep." Rumplestiltskin argued. Jefferson stopped and held out the fossil.

"I got you that, Ortho-thing." He announced, Rumplestiltskin took the bait and returned to the Hatter's side, taking the fossil from his hands and inspecting it.

"It's called an orthoceras, and it's about 420 million years old, so I should hope you kept it from getting damaged."

"Well it might have cracked a bit when I tripped over you." Jefferson joked, but Rumplestiltskin didn't seem to hear. He was too busy yawning as he placed the polished fossil down on a table and then leaned both hands on it to steady himself. Jefferson walked forward again and placed a hand on the imp's leather vest.

"Alright look, I've known you for quite some time now Stiltskin, and I think I've figured out what you're like most of the time, and this is not you. So how about we go downstairs, I'll fix us some tea, and we can chat for a little while alright?" He offered, knowing the imp couldn't resist the promise of tea. He looked apprehensive for a brief moment before giving in and excepting the invitation, stepping away from his work and walking down the tower staircase with Jefferson steadying him the whole way down.

It didn't take long for Rumplestiltskin to fall asleep again, only this time it was in an armchair instead of the floor, and he now had a cup of warm tea and a roll of bread in his stomach. Jefferson smiled as the man dozed, his head leaning on the armrest and his body curled up like a cat in the seat of the large chair. He knew he shouldn't have been so pleased with himself. Anyone could fix some tea and chat with someone in front of a fire for a while until that exhausted someone drifted off into a solid sleep, but he knew somewhere inside him that Rumplestiltskin had no one else who would do him such a kindness, or any kindness at all for that matter. He was pleased that he had the chance to be that someone, even if the sorcerer probably didn't deserve anyone's compassion.

After sitting in silence for a while, watching the fire dance and flicker in the fireplace, Jefferson stood, and took the tea tray to the kitchen, and returned with a blanket from the laundry. He draped the thick quilt over the dozing sorcerer and then crept away as inconspicuously as he could. He grabbed himself a few spools of gold from beside the old spinning wheel and made his leave of the castle.

He was unsure how to take in what had just occurred between them. The average man would have no business taking care of a mere benefactor, that service was reserved for friends and family. Rumplestiltskin had no family, and Jefferson was pretty sure that they were not friends. Jefferson really wasn't sure what Rumplestiltskin was to him.

**I really love the idea of Hatter and Rumple being friends, but I have a really hard time writing him. I feel like he was underused, but what secondary characters on ONCE aren't right? I still don't have a Beta so hopefully Spell Check and**** I caught everything. **

**Thank you to **Ryunn Kazan**, **VyeLoyomBrightwarrior**,** Serenity Prime**,** Mew Sakura the Cyniclon**,** **and **Anawey**for your amazing reviews and a big thank you to all of you for reading and favoriteing or following. I'm really looking forward to writing the next chapter. Does anyone want to guess who'll be finding poor little Rumple next time? **

**Anyway, let me know what you think and I'll be getting the next chapter as soon as I can. Please review because I really love to hear from you! Thanks again! **


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